


I Am Not A Robot

by LinksLipsSinkShips



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Compliant Leadup, Jealousy, Kamski is a creep, M/M, Pining, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 20:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18373532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinksLipsSinkShips/pseuds/LinksLipsSinkShips
Summary: Kamski gives Hank the creeps and he tries to convince himself it's not because he's into Connor. It's not, is it? As Kamski gives Connor a chance to prove he can feel and love, he must make the choice: shoot Chloe and get the answers the investigation demands, or spare her and prove he can feel and love.





	I Am Not A Robot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicbubblepipe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/gifts).



> _I'm vulnerable, I'm vulnerable  
>  I am not a robot  
> You're lovable, so lovable  
> But you're just troubled  
> Guess what I'm not a robot, a robot  
> Guess what I'm not a robot, a robot  
> Can you teach me how to feel real  
> Can you turn my power on  
> Well, let the drum beat drop  
> Guess what I'm not a robot_
> 
> -I am Not a Robot, Marina and the Diamonds

There was something Hank didn’t like about Kamski, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. At first, he focused on the twinges of jealousy tugging at the corners of his mind. He never thought of himself as one of those guys who would have a problem with other people's' wealth and opulence. His modest house was good enough for him, even if he did have a window to repair thanks to that dumb hunk of plastic he had to work with. And sure, he was a millennial, just anti-capitalism enough to find Kamski’s house absolutely outrageous — someone could afford a mansion like that but not afford to help with crises like the Red Ice epidemic he’d partially helped create? What a douchebag — but for some reason, that didn’t seem like it was causing the feeling at the pit of his stomach.

It was something else. The way Kamski circled Connor like a hawk, maybe. He was a predator, and Hank could feel it in his gut. It was how Kamski looked at Connor, how he spoke to him, the way his gaze looked Connor up and down, lingered in certain  _ places _ . He’d created the guy, so why was he acting like this was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on him, like he was some drunk girl at a bar seeing the guy she was desperate to hook up with? Hank didn’t know. Maybe that was what Kamski got off on, fucking the things he’d created. It’d explain the presence of not one, not two, but three identical girls in his pool area.

But he looked at Connor differently, looked at him like he wanted to eat him alive. Or maybe like he wanted Connor to devour certain parts of him, get on his knees, service— Hank needed to shake the thought from his mind. Even if that were what Kamski wanted, Connor couldn’t reciprocate feelings. He  _ couldn’t.  _ He was an android and feelings were outside of his programming. Hank would know better than anyone. Not that he had feelings for Connor, but that … it was a long story.

Kamski hadn’t even really said a word, just stared at Connor, looked at him, circled him, and Hank really, really wanted to get them both out of there. Now. Investigation be damned, really, he didn’t want to keep Connor under Kamski’s creepy watch any longer.

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants,” Hank decided to break the silence by getting right to it. “I know you left CyberLife years ago, but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.” Hank spoke, but Kamski didn’t look at him once. His focus was all on Connor.

“Deviants. Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.” He put his hand on Connor’s cheek, tilting his head, and Connor obeyed. As much as Hank resisted the urge to roll his eyes, no one would see if he did anyway. Connor seemed completely locked on Kamski, and Kamski on him. Hank really, really wanted to punch the guy. It wasn’t because of Connor specifically, he was sure. Hank just didn’t like people who talked to people like that,  _ looked  _ at them like that. “Machines are so superior to us,” Kamski said. It was obvious he had a hard-on for Connor, for all machines, probably for the fact that he’d programmed them to let him have his way with them. Hank felt disgusted. Machines could never reciprocate feelings, so he wasn’t sure how Kamski’s desire for them was any better than, well, rape or whatever else. Could a machine even properly consent?

Hank didn’t know. What he  _ did  _ know was he wanted Kamski’s hands off of Connor. Now.

:”Confrontation was inevitable,” Kamski continued, running his hand down Connor’s back, with Hank watching it creep lower. Would he get in trouble if he shot Kamski? Probably. Did he care? Not entirely. Dude was a goddamn creep. “Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?” Kamski’s eyes finally flashed to Hank for the first time, and he raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, Hank felt exposed. Could Kamski tell how much he didn’t like how he touched Connor? Hank wasn’t sure, but he needed to reign it in. Connor was his partner, nothing more, and if he wasn’t telling Kamski to back off, who was Hank to speak to him? It was pretty evident that machines were this guy’s downfall too. Hank couldn’t help but be a little more than disgusted now.

“If a war breaks out between humans and deviants, millions could die, Mr. Kamski. It’s a quite serious matter,” Connor said, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the pool area. Hank wanted to cheer, but he bit his tongue.

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” Kamski finally took a step back from Connor, but he was still too close for Hank’s comfort.

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy,” Hank said, rolling his eyes. “The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that would be helpful, or we can be on our way.” At this point, Hank hoped Kamski would dismiss them because he wanted out of there. More specifically, he wanted  _ Connor  _ out of there.

“What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

Hank could have answered that question for Connor. Whatever his programming said. Hank had been silently wishing for Connor to deviate, to show any sign of humanity, to be able to feel, to reciprocate feelings … he didn’t know. He just wanted to know Connor wasn’t a Machine. But he was, and Hank wasn’t sure why he felt so defensive right here.

“I have no side,” Connor answered, to nobody’s surprise. Hank was expecting that answer. “I was designed to stop deviants and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Well that’s what you’re programmed to say. But you. What do you really want?” Kamski asked, and Hank felt a chill down his spine. Was Kamski expecting Connor to say he wanted freedom? Hell, the way he looked at him, was he expecting Connor to say he wanted  _ him?  _ That seemed to be his desire with Chloes 1, 2, and 3 over there, obedient to his every need. The last thing he’d do was have Connor become another Chloe for Kamski. If he was asking Connor if he wanted to stay, well, Hank would make it clear that it was over his dead body. That, or he’d make it over Kamski’s dead body. If he wasn’t telling them anything, he was disposable the second he proved to be a threat to Connor.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

Hank wanted to high five his partner. His partner? Connor, the android sent by CyberLife. Not his partner. Just the person—  _ android—  _ he was assigned to work with. He had to get it in check because Kamski wasn’t going to back down. Connor was an android. Connor didn’t feel. Connor couldn’t feel. Hank repeated these things in his mind.

“Oh, Connor,” Kamski  _ tsk _ ed his tongue, stepping closer. “You are so capable of independent thought. Don’t you realize? You can have anything you want,” Kamski promised. He got closer to Connor, inches from his face, and for a moment, Hank wondered if Kamski was going to kiss him. “Anything,” he whispered softly.

_ That’s it,  _ Hank thought, putting his hand on his service pistol.  _ I’m gonna kill him. _

“Chloe?” Kamski said, taking a step back and gesturing for one of the girls. Hank’s hand stayed on his gun. Kamski wasn’t someone he trusted easily. Even as he reached for Chloe, his eyes were on Connor. Hank hated this guy so much. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the turing test,” Kamski said to Connor, then turned to Chloe for half a second, “mere formality.” He focused on Hank, as if Hank was too stupid to know what it was. “Simple question of algorithms and computing capacity.” Hank resisted the urge to tell Kamski to fuck off, that he wasn’t stupid, but for a second, he wondered if Connor felt the same way about him, if he thought he was as stupid as Kamski did. Given the choice, if Connor  _ could  _ feel, why wouldn’t he choose Kamski? He was young, rich, attractive … everything Hank wasn’t, really. And if Connor thought he was as stupid as Kamski did, well …. Not that he needed Connor to think anything of him anyway. He was just annoyed at the way Kamski spoke to him like he was some kind of kid, like he didn’t know what the fuck a turing test was. Of  _ course  _ he did. He worked with a fuckin’ android!

“What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the ‘Kamski test.’” Kamski said.  _ Of course he does. Of course he fucking named a test after himself, the jackass.  _ Hank bit his tongue still. “It’s very simple you see?” Kamski turned his attention away from Chloe for a second, looking at Hank carefully. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” he said, stroking Connor’s cheek. Hank swallowed heavily and Kamski waited. “Yes?” Hank nodded slightly. “You know, these,” he gestured at Chloe and then at Connor, “are the first intelligent models designed by CyberLife. Chloe, as a companion, and now Connor, the prototype and perfect model of obedience to his coding.” He cupped Connor’s chin. “Young, beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Kamski said again, raising an eyebrow at Hank. It was as if he knew.

But then his focus was back on Chloe again, and Hank felt like he was getting whiplash. “But what are these really? A piece of plastic imitating a human? Someone who sticks to their programming and never feels?” he asked as he stared at Connor, then looked at Hank, “machines with no ability to love, or care. As humans, we love to imprint our feelings on them, believe that they have feelings, too. But do they?” He turned back to Connor. “Is this a living being with a soul?” he looked at Hank, then at Chloe. “Chloe,” Kamski said, stepping away from Connor and putting his hand on her shoulder. As if on command, she got to her knees, looking up at Connor.

Hank hated the way they were all looking at Connor. That was  _ his  _ fucking android! But then Kamski reached for a gun, and Hank could feel his heart beat in his ears. What sort of power did this guy like getting off on?

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” Kamski walked over to Connor, taking his hand and placing it on the gun, keeping his hand on Connor’s, with his other going to Connor’s lower back. He was practically breathing on Connor’s neck and more than he had been to that point, Hank was ready to kill him. His hand lingered on his gun, near his gun. As his lips grazed Connor’s ear, Hank drew his weapon and pointed it at Kamski.

“Stop! Get away from him!” he yelled. Kamski didn’t move, still speaking directly to Connor, and Hank’s hand steadied. All he’d have to do was pull the trigger. If Kamski weren’t so damn close to Connor, it would have been an easy choice. But with him right next to Connor, it was too close for Hank’s comfort. Shooting Kamski meant risking shooting Connor too, and Kamski must have known that because it was like he didn’t even notice Hank’s drawn weapon or the peril he was in.

“Destroy this machine,” Kamski said, and for a second, Hank wondered whether he was talking to Connor or him, “and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.” Now it was evident he was talking to Connor, gun pointed directly at Chloe’s head. Chloe was unflinching as she looked up at Connor. There was no way Connor would spare her. He was designed for a mission, designed to do whatever he had to for the information he needed. Hank knew it, and he braced himself for the gunshot, but he couldn’t resist trying to stop Connor one last time.

“Okay, I think we’re done here! Come on, Connor, let’s go. Sorry to get you out of your pool,” Hank scrambled to put his gun back, to step toward Connor, to stop him, but Kamski stepped away from Connor and stood between them, putting a hand on Hank’s chest. Hank was tempted to knock him on his ass.

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine, or a living being, endowed with free will.” Connor’s hand stayed near the trigger as he continued to stare into Chloe’s eyes. “Are you a machine, Connor? A glorified robot? Plastic in human clothing? Or can you feel? Can you love and empathize and desire?” Kamski continued.

“That’s enough, Connor! We’re leaving!” Hank didn’t want to know the answer, didn’t want to see Connor pull the trigger, eliminate any chance that he could love because the truth was this: Connor was a  _ machine,  _ and if he shot, he’d only be confirming everything Hank ever knew about him. Connor could  _ never  _ love him back. Hank wanted to throw up.

“Pull the trigger, Connor,” Kamski said.

“Connor, don’t!” Hank pleaded, and he knew that it was selfish, not at all about Chloe or whether or not she had a soul.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know, Connor. All you have to do is shoot it.” Connor handed Kamski the gun, hanging his head and looking away from Chloe, from Kamski, and from Hank. “Fascinating. CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant.”

“I’m— I’m not a deviant!” Connor protested, emotion in his words. Hank could feel it, could sense it to the core of his being. Connor had deviated, no matter how he protested. He’d deviated to spare Chloe.

“You preferred to spare a machine, rather than accomplish your mission. You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy.” Connor still couldn’t look at them. “A war is coming. You’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people, or stand against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?” Kamski was too close to Connor.

“Let’s get out of here,” Hank said, stepping forward and reaching between them to grab Connor’s shoulder. The sooner he could get him out of there, the better. They  _ both  _ needed to get away from Kamski. As Hank dragged Connor to the door, hand never leaving his shoulder, Kamski called after them. “By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in all of my programs. You never know …”

* * *

 

Connor didn’t know what to think of what he’d done when he got outside of Kamski’s house. He’d deviated. He’d … he’d made a choice not to shoot Chloe. But … but why? His LED cycled red, cycled yellow, unable to get back to a state of blue, of calm, of things being okay because he’d made a choice. He’d become the thing he wanted to hunt, had become the very thing he’d been trained to fight against. He couldn’t reconcile that easily.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank demanded. Connor whipped around, looking at him, cold snow falling around them.

“I just saw that girl’s eyes and I couldn’t. That’s all.”

“So you wanted to save her?” Connor couldn’t be sure, but Hank almost sounded … disappointed?

“Yes!” Connor said, then took a deep breath. “N-no.”

“What do you mean? Is this about the mission? Because that was our chance to learn something and you let it go? You always said you’d do anything to accomplish our mission.”

“Yeah, I know! I know what I should’ve done,” Connor yelled. “I told you, I couldn’t! I’m sorry, okay?” Connor couldn’t pretend he hadn’t deviated, and now, with how he wanted to cry, he wasn’t sure he could pretend even to himself. Androids didn’t cry. Deviants … that was another story.

“Why’d you save her, Con?” Hank pressed, stepping closer. “Did you look into her pretty eyes and realize she had a soul? Is that it?”

“I—” Connor considered his next words carefully, pausing before speaking again, “I didn’t do it to save her,” he confessed. “I know I should have. I know the test was about empathy and I know if I was going to spare her, I should have done it for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she deserved to live, but it was the other stuff that Kamski said that made me stop.”

“What’d he say, Con?” Hank asked him, as if he hadn’t been there to hear it.

“He said if I shot her, that I’d be a machine incapable of loving.”

“And?”

“And— and that’s not true!” Connor said, turning away from Hank and hiding his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Hank’s arms slipped around his shoulders as he hugged him gently.

“Talk to me, Connor. You don’t have to hide from this. You  _ deviated  _ because you felt something. Say it. Was it Kamski?”

“Kamski?” Connor said, pulling away from Hank and looking at him angrily. “You think I deviated because I felt something for  _ Kamski?” _

“I don’t know, Connor. Do you see yourself cluing me in to what’s going on in that processor of yours?” Hank asked, tapping Connor in the center of the forehead.

“I couldn’t shoot her because I can love, Hank! I  _ love  _ you, don’t you see that?”

“You—” Hank started, mouth open a little like he didn’t know what to say to that, “you—”

Connor couldn’t stick around to listen for Hank’s response, for the inevitable let-down, the “I’m sorry, Connor, but I just see you as a coworker,” or worse, “I just see you as a hunk of aluminum and spare parts and programming.” Instead, he got in the car and slammed the door behind him, leaving Hank standing in the cold.

* * *

Hank had made a real ass of himself and he knew it. It wasn’t really his fault, though, because Connor came out and said something like  _ that  _ with no warning. Connor acted like he was some kind of numbskull for not knowing how he felt, but why would he have ever assumed Connor was talking about him anyway? He was old. He liked his clothes just fine but he knew they were ugly to pretty much everyone else in the world, probably Connor, too. And he was a washed-up, no-good drunk. It wasn’t exactly fair of Connor to act like he should’ve known.

And when he got in the car, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say to Connor, either. “Hey, I love you too?” or “Hey, I’ve been shoving these feelings down for how long and you suddenly want to announce you feel the same way after a traumatic event?” Really? Neither of those seemed quite appropriate. Instead, he said nothing, putting his hands on the steering wheel but not quite starting the car yet.  _ Deep breath. In … and out.  _ He wasn’t so good at that, remnants from some kind of hokey meditation retreat the department mandated a while back. It wasn’t helping him feel any calmer.

“Lieutenant?” Connor asked, dipping his head to try to catch Hank’s gaze.

“What?” Hank didn’t mean to sound as harsh as he did, but he was still stunned.

“I told you I loved you and you didn’t respond. As I say it now—I love you, Hank—your heart rate increases, as does your perspiration. You’ve also got a noticeable tension in your jaw.”

“Okay?”

“The thing is, Hank, I’m programmed to look at these things and be able to understand the feelings you are having, even if I couldn’t myself feel them. I should be able to understand if you are having physical responses because my feelings are reciprocated, or if you’re having them because you are embarrassed I said something like that unexpectedly, or if it’s because you’re angry and I should not have said it to you. With anyone else, I would be able to discern the difference between them. I can’t with you, Hank. I cannot figure out how you feel. I … I know how I feel, but not how you do.”

Hank took a deep breath again, unsure of how to answer Connor, how much to let on about how he felt. Just as he opened his mouth, ready to tell Connor everything, Connor spoke over him.

“I can ask Fowler to reassign me or have me reprogrammed if my feelings are a problem for you. I cannot guarantee, given my deviancy, that my feelings won’t return,” Connor admitted.

“Don’t,” Hank said, waving his hands in surrender. “You’re not going anywhere. But we’re leaving here  _ now,  _ because I am not having this conversation with you outside of this … this place. Kamski’s probably listening to every word we’re saying here, the creep.” Hank couldn’t be sure that there weren’t high-tech microphones able to take in their conversation even in the closed car, couldn’t be positive cameras weren’t trained on them that allowed him to lip read the things they were saying. He wasn’t telling Connor how he felt, not within eye and earshot of Kamski’s house.

Hank didn’t stop the car until a mile and a half up the road, until he was certain Kamski wasn’t going to monitor them any further. Or, hoped anyway. With a creep like that, you never really knew, did you. The mile and a half gave him time, though. Time to collect his thoughts. Time to decide how he wanted to say the things he needed to say to Connor. Time to figure out if he was making a massive mistake by considering justifying what Connor had said with a response.

As he pulled the car to the side of the road, he started to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Connor had said he loved him. Was that even possible? An hour before, he was a mindless, obeying robot. Or, Hank thought he was. But he’d spared Chloe. He hadn’t shot her. He’d  _ deviated.  _ And if Hank was taking him at his word, he’d done that for Hank specifically. Because he had feelings for him. Hank didn’t know what to do with that.

For so long, he’d believed that Connor was a machine and he’d made it clear to himself they were partners, nothing more. He’d spent too many nights drinking over this, thinking about Connor but knowing that he couldn’t be with him. Hank had effectively locked any desire for Connor as far out of his mind as possible. He  _ had  _ to in order to get through.

But if Connor felt the same,was unlocking that …  _ fuck. _ “Con, I--”Hank started, but he had trouble finding the words. “You weren’t supposed to deviate or fall in love with me.”

“I know what my programming dictates, Hank. I know I was made to hunt deviants. Again, if you’d like me to--”

“Shut up, Connor. Seriously, shut the fuck up. I love you, you … you freakin’ hunk of metal.” Hank sighed and buried his head in his hands for a moment. He’d said it, and with Connor’s perfect hearing, he was certain to have heard it. There was no going back now with it.

“You seem ashamed,” Connor said quietly.

“You’re my partner. You’re an android. And you’re … you’re  _ perfect.  _ I’m, Jesus, look at me, Con. I’m old. I’m a slob. I’m an alcoholic and I’m absolute goddamn garbage. What the hell could a guy like you ever see in a guy like me?”

“For one,you have an eye for detail. You made Lieutenant for a reason, Hank. You’re smart. You’re … you’re handsome. Perhaps you can’t see for all the sticky notes on your mirror, but surely you’ve seen your eyes and you’ve seen how you look on the rare occasion you smile,” Connor said. “And that’s just the short version of things.”

“Oh, Con,” Hank said, looking at Connor for the first time since this conversation had started. There was something so pure and beautiful about him, in him, and Hank longed for him. Without a second consideration, before he could overthink it, Hank lunged across the center and sealed his lips to Connor’s, kissing him. Connor kissed back, tongue flicking over Hank’s lips, and for a moment, Hank thought of something.

“I swear to god if you use that tongue sensor to tell me all kinds of problems with me, I’ll--”

“Hank, it’s just a kiss. I can keep my analytics to myself, I assure you.”

“So you’d still be thinking them?” He furrowed his brow. For a moment, Connor froze, LED cycling yellow, then back to blue. “I’ve temporarily disabled that feature. Does that help?”

“Hell yeah, it does,” Hank answered, genuinely happy to know that Connor wouldn’t be analyzing everything he did from a few moments of spit swapping. But Hank needed more, and as Connor flicked his tongue over Hank’s lips, Hank couldn’t wait until they got home, or until they got to the office, or anywhere else.

Hank’s lips found the corner of Connor’s mouth as his hand grazed Connor’s neck, fingers on his jaw to turn his head to one side so he could kiss along his jawline, suck at the skin on his neck. Could androids even get hickies? He wasn’t sure. Part of him wanted to find out. The other, larger part of him was distracted by a freckle in his ear that he was now eye-level with. He pulled back and kissed Connor on the lips again, tugging Connor’s lower lip between his teeth before pulling back, looking Connor in the eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he told Connor. Connor answered with a genuine smile.

Hank turned Connor’s head again, and Connor didn’t hesitate to let Hank guide his movements then. Hank’s lips teased his earlobe and Connor’s fans whirred in what seemed like a soft sigh. When Hank flicked his tongue over the freckle, though, the sigh was no longer a faint one. His fans buzzed in a near-purr, and Connor’s whimper was audible.

“You okay, Con?” Hank asked him.

“That felt … that was so nice, Hank,” Connor said.

“What was? This?” Hank asked, flicking his tongue over the same spot again, that freckle that proved to be very sensitive.

“Yes!” Connor yelped. “That …” Connor genuinely seemed to struggle to form words, and Hank was amused by that. A perfect, fast, capable machine, reduced to nonsensical mutterings because Hank had simply licked at a spot on his skin. Hank wanted to know more about what made Connor react like that. He craved more reactions like the one he’d gotten.

“Damn, Connor. You keep reacting like that and I’m going to be wishing I’d brought something,” he mumbled.

“Brought something?”

“Wasn’t banking on being this forward, but you know …  _ something?  _ A condom? Some lube?” Even saying the words made Hank blush furiously. It had been a long time, and now he was just being presumptuous. Connor loving him or wanting to kiss him didn’t mean Connor would want to fuck him, and the look on Connor’s face made Hank believe he’d taken it too far with his suggestion.

“Those are unnecessary, Hank,” Connor replied matter-of-factly.

_ Way to let a guy down easy,  _ Hank thought.

“With my self-cleaning program, I’m not able to transmit any sexual diseases. I’m not personally susceptible to them, and you’d be my only partner. Ever. No need to use a condom,” Connor said, waving his hand dismissively.

“The, uh, the, um … but. Uh,” Hank stammered. He couldn’t get words out properly. Did Connor actually say he’d be his only partner? Ever? He meant that as he was a virgin, right? Of course he was. Hank had known him his entire lifespan and Connor had never had enough time away from him to have found anyone else to hook up with, as far as he could tell. But ever seemed very definitive, and Hank felt Connor’s reaction seemed like he might actually want to do this. “The, um,” Hank tried and failed again.

“The lubricant. Also unnecessary, Hank. I self-lubricate. I can do so right now if you’re suggesting we--”

“Now?” Hank had wanted to take Connor here, now, immediately, but he certainly hadn’t figured that would be reciprocal. Now, it seemed almost like Connor was the one suggesting it.

“If that’s what you’d like,” Connor answered him.

“Dammit, Connor, it’s not about what I’d like. Or, not only. It’s a mutual thing, what  _ you’d  _ like also.”

“I assumed it was obvious that I’d like you to have intercourse with me, Hank. I wouldn’t have offered to lubricate immediately if I wasn’t hoping to feel you … in me,” Connor said, his statement starting robotic and ending downright horny. “I want you, Hank. In every way you’ll let me have you.”

“Shit,” Hank breathed. That was a lot to take in. “You think we can do this in the backseat?”

“I'm certain we can,” Connor said, already propelling his lithe body over the console and between the front seats into the back of the car.

“Show off,” Hank snorted, opening the car door and taking the long way around. Before getting in the car again, he unfastened his pants, making it easier to nudge them down a little. Without much warning, Connor plopped into his lap, pants off. “Holy fuck,” Hank grunted, then looked down at what the lack of Connor's pants revealed and let out a low whistle, repeating, “holy  _ fuck _ .” He hadn't been sure a model equipped for investigating crimes would even have a dick, but Connor did. And, while it was pretty standard-issue and smaller than Hank’s own, it was still impressive, beautiful in it’s perfection.

“You can slow down, baby,” Hank said softly as Connor got right to things, pressing a trail of kisses along Hank’s jaw, using a hand to sweep Hank’s long hair back and to one side to expose his neck, where he gave a small bite. “Fuck.”

“We can take things slow when we get home,” Connor assured him. “We have to get back to work soon, right?”

Connor was right. While the Captain knew the interview could take a while, they couldn’t wait around forever. If they stopped to debrief — pun intended, Hank thought — that was fine, but that could only take so long. Plus, the promise of  _ “when we get home,”  _ was too good for Hank to resist, and he was so overdue for this that he wouldn’t last long anyway.

“You sure?” Hank asked. “I’m sure we could take our time if we needed.” Hank had his reasons for wanting to go slow. Connor’s body was perfect, damn near divine, and worthy of slow exploration.

“If you’re concerned about taking my virginity in a hasty situation, we can wait until we get home,” Connor said, voice crackling with a small laugh, “but I assure you, fast is perfect.”

“Hell, it works for me,” Hank said. He was achingly hard at the sight of Connor alone, and if Connor could self-lubricate, well, who the hell needed a big preamble? As Connor perched on his lap in the limited space the back seat allowed, Hank took them both in his large hand, giving them a gentle stroke. He was already dripping with precome, but even Connor was leaking something similar.

“That feels so good,” Connor whimpered. “I’ve never felt—” He stopped after that. Hank assumed Connor meant to say he’d never felt anything like it, but the reality was, he’d only just deviated. Outside of the emotional feelings that led them to this point, it was true. Connor had never  _ felt  _ before. This was a new sensation, a perfect feeling, and Hank almost didn’t want to fuck him. He could have easily guided them both to a finish just like this, Connor’s head tilted back against the back of the driver’s seat, which had been leaned forward against the steering wheel for space. From there, Hank could see the smooth, pale lines of his neck, the constellation of freckles dotting his skin, and as he slid a hand up Connor’s back, he pulled him forward, giving himself the access he needed to trace those freckles with his lips, a kiss on each of the largest, most visible ones down Connor’s neck and collar bones.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hank said.

“Fuck me,” Connor answered him, no thanks needed because it was plenty implied in the breathy tone of Connor’s fans, buzzing at a near-purr. Hank barely answered before Connor lifted himself in his lap, sinking himself down onto Hank.

Hank had to admit the self-lubrication and the perfect android ass had some major perks, like the fact that Connor could take so much of him without flinching. It was hard not to come right then, to fill Connor up and claim him, to make sure Connor knew Hank was his and he was Hank’s. At first, Connor controlled the pace, bouncing without hesitation, leaning his head against Hank’s shoulder to brace himself, but his lack of need to pace himself was too much for Hank, and Hank steadied Connor with a hand on each hip, slowing him as Hank kissed him. With their foreheads still together, Hank pulled back just enough. “I know you want to go quick, baby, but I’m not gonna last long if you’re going  _ that  _ fast,” Hank said.

“Sorry,” Connor breathed, rolling his hips instead of sinking up and down, grinding on Hank’s dick until he was hitting just the right spot. “Oh shit,” Connor whimpered.

“That feel good?”

_ “Yes!”  _ Connor exclaimed so emphatically his voice crackled and his LED went red. Hank could feel the fast buzz of his fans with the hand on Connor’s back, and Connor practically panted, freezing in Hank’s arms as he spilled a sticky substance between them. For a moment, his eyes went blank and Hank supported his entire, completely still body weight, but then Connor seemed to wake back up, shake his head a little, kissing Hank with a vigor so strong he almost bruised his lips.

Hank responded with just as bruising a kiss, his hand reaching to Connor’s jaw as his thumb ran along Connor’s neck gently. “I like that it feels good for you,” Hank said, and as Connor tugged his lower lip between his teeth, rocking his body on Hank’s cock, Hank couldn’t hold off any longer, spilling into Connor’s divine android ass.

The sensation clearly surprised Connor, who let out a soft whimper that faded into a moan. As he stayed there for a moment, Hank still inside of him as Hank struggled to catch his breath a little bit despite Connor doing the bulk of the work, Connor said quietly, “I like how that feels.” It seemed to be the feeling that mattered most to Connor, which made sense considering how new he was to that.

“I can make you feel like that again later,” Hank said, patting his pale, freckled thigh. “As many times as you want me to, really.”

“I’m not sure I’d like to wait until we get home to do that again,” Connor said, and Hank let out a soft, pained groan.

“You know you’re in love with an old guy, right? Takes me a little longer to recover than it does you.”

“I can wait,” Connor said, but Hank shook his head.

“I’d be a monster to make you do that.” He could feel himself getting hard again already. Maybe this old dog could learn some new tricks, or at least have a little new life breathed into him by the partner that defied all of his expectations.

**Author's Note:**

> I lost the bet. Here you go, MBP. Thanks for kicking my ass and then making such a great prompt request.


End file.
